


On Healers

by Ayotofu



Series: Dragon Assassin: Tales of Shado and Nyssa [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shado in the League of Assassins AU, This ship is beautiful fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayotofu/pseuds/Ayotofu
Summary: "In all of Nanda Parbat, there were only two people who could tell Nyssa to do something and live to tell the tale–one was her father, Ra’s al Ghul himself, and the other was dropping her sword on the ground and looking Nyssa over with a careful eye."





	

“Your knife work is exceptional,” Nyssa said as they entered the training arena, “but your swordplay is… subpar.” She strode over to the rack of weapons, foot catching on a loose stone tile, and picked up two swords, tossing one to Shado (who caught it with her right hand).  
  
“Perhaps because I never used a sword before.” Martial arts, knives, a bow–these were all things her father had taught her, back when she wanted to join the military, before she broke her sister’s nose in a moment of pure rage and swore off fighting for anything but self defense ever again. The sword, however, he had never touched. He never did tell her why. He never would.  
  
“You make excuses, Al-Tanin.” Nyssa smirked, the hollows of her face more pronounced in the dim and flickering light of the torches. Shado spared a moment to trace the contours of her lips and the slight tremble in her frame (it couldn’t be fear; anticipation, then? excitement?) before she sank into a crouch, ready to attack. Nyssa mirrored her, but kept one hand behind her back. She would be embarrassed that Nyssa had handicapped herself, but she couldn’t waste her energy on such frivolous emotions  
  
She leapt into action, and their swords were a blur, a clanging of steel against steel. Before long, sweat trickled down her brow and into her eyes, but she could not afford the break in focus it would take to wipe it away because there was Nyssa, aiming at her shoulder. Shado forced her back, snaking in her blade, only to have it pushed aside and out of her hand.  
“Again,” Nyssa said, holding her blade to Shado’s throat.  
  
As the training went on, the air filled with a coppery tang, so slowly she almost didn’t notice it. But she did, and she looked over at Nyssa, who looked as haggard as she felt, and she knew something was wrong.  
  
“Nyssa, stop.”  
  
–  
  
In all of Nanda Parbat, there were only two people who could tell Nyssa to do something and live to tell the tale–one was her father, Ra’s al Ghul himself, and the other was dropping her sword on the ground and looking Nyssa over with a careful eye.  
  
“Shado, why did you stop the fight?” Nyssa demanded, her grip on her sword tight and her chest heaving. “We don’t have time to spare; Father will want to see your progress soon and if it doesn’t meet his expectations–”  
  
“Nyssa,” Shado cut her off, moving into her personal space and staring up at her in defiance, “where are you hurt?”  
Nyssa blinked in mild surprise. “Is that what this is about? I am fine, Al-Tanin, truly. I received a minor injury on my last mission but–”  
  
“But it’s bleeding, and it’s slowing you down. You are not at your best, _beloved._ ” At this word, Shado leaned in and breathed it in her ear, sending warm shivers down her spine. “You need to rest before you can train me properly.”  
  
“You know,” Nyssa said hoarsely, “I’m aware you’re manipulating me.”  
  
Shado smiled. “I should hope so. Now come on, lets get cleaned up.”  
  
–  
  
It truly wasn’t that significant of a wound, a shallow slash on her back, but the stitches had popped and some measure of grime had slipped in and caused some irritation. Shado pulled out the stitches as gently as she could (not that Nyssa would have made a sound either way) and began rinsing away the dirt and sweat.  
  
“Hmm. You’re very good at this,” Nyssa hummed, her eyes shuttering closed.  
  
Shado pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. “I was going to be a doctor, once.”  
  
Nyssa didn’t laugh as Shado thought she might. “Really? I never knew that,” she said.  
  
“My father said that I had the hands of a surgeon, but I never liked the idea of cutting into people, even to help them, so I was going to be an orthopedist, or perhaps a pediatrician. I wanted to fix people, I suppose.”  
  
Nyssa was quiet for a long time as Shado threaded the needle and began to make careful, precise stitches. “You have the soul of a healer,” she said at last, turning to face her lover, “but you also have the soul of a survivor, and that survivor is what brought you here to me, so please–do not resent that part of yourself, my love. I would never have known such healing without it.”  
  
Shado smiled. “You forget,” she said, cradling Nyssa’s face with both hands, “you were the one who saved me, when you had no reason to do so. If I have a healer’s soul, then so do you, beloved.”  
  
Nyssa kissed her then, fully and deeply, and pushed her back on the bed. “Suppose you’re right,” she said, lips hovered barely a hair’s breadth above Shado’s. “Perhaps we are in the wrong place.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Shado said, breathing the smell of wax and oil that lived in Nyssa’s skin. “But you’re here.”


End file.
